Last spring, a trip to Porto led me northward to Santiago de Compostela, where I discovered a rare work by John Hejduk—a striking, twin-towered structure perched on a hillside overlooking the historic city. One tower is solid, sombre grey, the other transparent, both like silent twins holding hands and gazing over the landscape. Initially designed as a visitor centre for the botanical gardens, Hejduk’s project seemed destined to remain unbuilt when he passed away.

Then fate intervened. In the early 2000s, Hejduk’s friend Peter Eisenman won the commission for the Galician City of Culture, prevailing over big names like Koolhaas and Portzamparc. As a tribute to Hejduk, Eisenman brought the twin towers to life, envisioning them as a visitor centre for this cultural complex. Yet, I wonder if Hejduk would appreciate this tribute; the site lies desolate, and the towers stand alone, with only resilient plants as their companions.

Conceived during the Bilbao Guggenheim boom, the Galician City of Culture sought to transform industry into culture, yet the 2008 financial crisis halted the project, leaving it forever incomplete. Eisenman’s mirrored “new city,” echoing the old town below, feels almost poignant—a modern tomb. Hejduk’s towers, strong yet delicate, endure as a quiet, melancholic homage to unrealised dreams and fragile ideals.